


drifter.

by sailorfaerie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:20:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1713743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailorfaerie/pseuds/sailorfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time you saw Dean Winchester, you knew he was trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. first encounters.

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I haven't written anything in years and this is my first ever Supernatural fanfiction, so critiques are absolutely welcomed with open arms. I originally wrote this with the intentions of it being a one-shot, but I got kind of nervous posting the whole fic since I haven't posted any content for a long time so I opted for posting it as a series of short chapters - plus I felt that it was going to be too long of a one-shot. I suppose you can consider the first chapter as a "pilot chapter", lol. Thanks for reading and enjoy :)

The first time you saw Dean Winchester saunter into the local diner during the dinner rush, his lips tugged into a smirk when your eyes met from behind the counter, you knew that he was trouble. Drifters were common in your area and you hardly saw the same face twice, but it wasn't too much of a surprise when the same green eyes ogling at you the day before came in for breakfast the next morning. He and his company (a much taller man with incredible hair, whose name you later found out to be Sam) seated themselves in a booth near the window and he casually called you over, his voice low and endearing, ordering eggs with extra bacon and a cup of coffee. His eyes shined with the intent of wooing you with his good looks and smooth talking, but you only chuckled when he attempted to make a pass. His friend scoffed and rolled his eyes and you knew that this wasn't the first time Dean Winchester got fresh with a woman he’d just met, though his charming looks should have been a dead giveaway. He had a way with words that made you giggle like a little school girl and you wondered how many other girls he made feel like they were just the prettiest thing he had ever laid his beautiful green eyes on. After an hour of talking in between tending to your other customers, the boys decided it was time to go. Dean handed you a credit card with a different name inscribed on it and you were a bit suspicious, but didn't ask any questions. He left you a hefty tip and you though you told him that you couldn't accept it, he insisted with a mischievous grin playing on his thin, pink lips. Before he left to join his friend outside, he asked you if he could see you again, maybe when you weren't on the clock; but you knew better than to play with a man like that and only replied with a simple ‘we’ll see’ before returning behind the counter without a second glance. 


	2. smooth talker.

The third time you saw Dean Winchester, he and Sam donned suits and FBI badges outside of your apartment building. You had just finished your shift at the diner and there was a huge commotion outside of the building when you returned. _Again?_ You thought with an uneasy feeling in your chest. There had been a string of unusual deaths within your apartment building the past few weeks and it made you dread coming home, but you thought that after the fourth victim it would be over. You heaved a sigh and watched as the front entrance to the building was sealed off to not disturb the forensic scientists and police officers as they worked and suddenly two familiar faces approached the scene. Surprisingly, Dean quickly spotted you among the group of curious people outside of the complex and made his way towards you, a grin playing his lips. Your eyebrows furrowed together and you gave him a small smile, telling him you would have never thought of him as the detective type as he approached.

“Well, you know there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, sweetheart, but we can change that,” he replied cheekily and you almost couldn’t believe he was flirting at a time like this. “Do you live around here?” He asked, quickly changing the subject before you had a chance to retort, and you nodded.

“In that building actually,” you said. “What happened?” You asked, not sure if you really wanted to know the gruesome details.

Dean looked around and nodded his head in a direction away from the crowd and you followed, knowing that he probably didn’t want to cause any type of panic if he were to be accidentally overheard. When you two were far way enough from the mass he told you that a woman had been showering when suddenly her water turned into acid and burned right through her skull. There was no explanation for why or how it happened; it was practically spontaneous and all possible explanations were debunked. Dean interviewed you about the other residents in the building that met their demise in an unusual way, asking strange questions like ‘did you smell sulfur?’ or ‘did you feel any cold spots?’ and you wondered what did any of that have to do with what was happening. He only replied with: ‘It’s just procedure’ and you brushed it off, not making anything of it. He could clearly tell that you were shaken up over the whole incident and offered to keep you company until the scene cleared up and you were able to enter the building again.

“Picking up girls while you’re on the clock is a little unprofessional, don’t you think Detective?” You asked with a raised brow while smirking.

He chuckled, turning to face his partner who was garnering information from bystanders and officers. “We’re almost done here, so Sammy can finish up the job. I’m sure he won’t mind me calling it a day,” he said with a grin. He pulled out his phone, typing quickly before putting it away. You looked over at Sam, who pulled out his phone and stared at the screen with a displeased look on his face. He glanced over to the shrugging Dean and walked away whilst shaking his head, eyebrows knitted together in irritation. Obviously, this wasn’t the first time Sam had to put up with his partner slacking off on the job.

Dean turned his attention back to you, reassuring you that Sam was really okay with him leaving, and guided you to his pride and joy, a ’67 Chevy Impala that he called Baby. You laughed a little, not because you thought it was ridiculous for him to name his car, but because you thought it was sweet and found it a little strange that a detective would drive his own car on the job. He drove you to a local bar with the idea that a little alcohol might ease your mind from all the strange events happening.

That evening you and Dean – though it was mostly you – talked for hours about anything and everything while sipping on beers (and the occasional whiskey). The bar music faded into the back of your mind as you chatted and all you were focused on was Dean Winchester as he told you his favorite genre of music and what his favorite bands were. You noticed how genuine his smile was when he talked about his aspirations as a child, and how it faded away when he was brought back to the reality of the present. All the while, he learned about how you were a sucker for fantasy, action, and adventure films and laughed because he never would have guessed and that you were a lover of all things sweet and chocolaty. You talked about how you were scared regarding the deaths within your apartment building and seriously considered moving since your anxiety levels skyrocketed when they began and you became paranoid; but he confidently reassured you that he was going to stop whatever was going on so that you could resume living peacefully and quickly changed the subject.

He seemed more interested in listening to you ramble on and on about your life rather than talking about himself and you didn’t mind because you weren’t fond of prying, but you didn’t mind sharing a little bit of yourself either. It had been quite a while since the last time you’ve talked to someone like this and you knew that after Dean’s work there was done, it would be the last of him you’d see and soon he’d forget about you and all of your stories. He asked you about your job at the diner, but there wasn’t much to say; so, you asked him questions about his job and though he answered, his replies were vague and often seemed like there was more to it than he was letting on. You told him the story of how you were chased by your neighbor’s mean, old dog when you were a child and he laughed heartily, a sound that tugged at your heartstrings. You didn’t know if it was just the alcohol, but something in you gave you the urge to grab him by the face and pull him into a kiss – though, of course, you refrained yourself.

When Dean realized it was getting late, he drove you home while Baby sang Led Zeppelin’s _Ramble On_ into the night and you smiled throughout the entire ride, feeling honored that Dean was sharing one of his favorite songs with you. The drive from the bar to your apartment was quite short and you were a bit disappointed that your night with Dean was coming to an end. He pulled into the parking lot and turned off the Impala’s ignition before he got out, opening the passenger door for you and helping you out.

“Thank you, Dean. I had a really good time tonight,” you said with a smile.

“Yeah, I had a good time, too,” he said, his voice low and you noticed him becoming a tad nervous. “You know, I’m…”

“…a womanizer?” You finished and he looked at you with wide eyes, stuttering as he tried rebutting your comment. “With the way you smooth talk a lady, plus having a handsome face, it isn’t hard to tell, but don’t worry,” you laughed. “I’m not judging you; however, I am sorry that this isn’t your typical booty call.”

Dean chuckled, “Honestly, those were my initial intentions when I first met you, but I really did enjoy talking with you tonight. It was…different, something I’m not used to. I never really just sat down and talked like that with anybody in awhile.”

“I’m really glad Dean, and don’t worry – what is said between us stays between us,” you said and Dean smiled. You were the one doing the most talking, but you knew from the start that Dean wasn’t the type to open up his front doors, especially not for a stranger, and get too cozy. You were fortunate that he shared as much as he did with you, but you didn’t mind that he wasn’t willing to tell you more. He would be long gone before you knew it anyway and you’ll forget about him, too. “Well, I guess I’ll be going now. Goodnight, Dean. Thanks again,” you said and began to make your to your apartment. Before you got far, you felt a strong, calloused hand tug you back by your wrist and found yourself staring into a glossy, green haze. “W-What is it Dean?” You asked, obviously startled, but he just stayed quiet as he pulled you in closer, leaning down to place a tender kiss on your lips. He pulled away shortly after, but a craving for his whiskey stained lips suddenly overtook you and you needed more. You tugged him down by his necktie catching him by surprise, and closed the space between you once more in a deeper, hungrier kiss. An arm snaked its way around your waist, but you pulled away before things became too heated and you heard him practically groan in displeasure. Though you wanted to continue further, one night stands weren’t your thing. “Sorry Dean,” you said with an apologetic smile. “Goodnight.” You said, and made your way to the complex. You emitted a heavy sigh as you finally entered your apartment, completely exhausted. That night you forgot about all the strange things happening around you and sleep came easier than usual, drifting into slumber soundly without a worry in the world.

  
The next day, you didn’t see Dean at all, but you weren’t surprised. Perhaps you were a bit disappointed and hoped that maybe he'd pass by the diner to say a goodbye, but you already knew that he’d be long gone.


	3. witches are real?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is chapter 3, sorry for the wait! Enjoy and thank you for reading everyone.

The fourth time you saw Dean Winchester, you weren’t expecting it. He broke down the door to your apartment, a sawed off shot gun in his hands, and Sam trailing behind him. You were slumped on the kitchen floor, choking on what tasted like blood and gasping for air after the water you had been drinking suddenly turned into little thumbtacks that violently clawed its way down your throat. You felt yourself slipping in and out of consciousness, but you managed to make out Dean’s shouting about something called hex bags to Sam and their frantic search for whatever it was they were looking for. Minutes felt like hours and surely you thought you were going to die; but when they finally found what they were looking for – a small purple sack – hidden underneath the kitchen sink, they quickly set it ablaze and the poking pain in your throat instantly ceased. A sudden rush of oxygen entered your wind pipes and you greedily breathed it in, gasping and falling to the floor in a daze. Your eyes saw blotches of black and you almost couldn’t hear Dean calling out for you, your ears ringing like church bells in your head, but you managed to turn your head in his direction as he shuffled to your side. He carefully helped you sit up and your hand unconsciously grasped the cotton fabric of his navy coat, clinging onto him like life support. Finally, the ringing stopped and you could hear Dean, who noticed how desperately you clung onto him and he pulled you into his arms.

“Hey, hey,” he soothed. “I got you, you’re okay.” Your forehead was nuzzled in the crook of his neck and he could feel the warmth of your of your breath against his skin. It was rapid, but slowed into a normal, rhythmic pattern and you felt yourself calm down. Your vision was cloudy with tears, but you were able to see Sam walking towards you with a glass of water.

“It’s okay,” Sam said reassuring you that it wasn’t going to magically change into anything when you flinched at the sight of it– it was just plain water. You cautiously sipped from the glass, the cooling sensation easing the pain in your throat, but pulled away when it started to taste like metal from the blood in your mouth. You felt nauseous and Sam suggested moving you to your bedroom to lie down and Dean agreed, carrying you there without any objections from you. He gently placed you on the bed, but before he walked away you took hold of his sleeve.

“Wait,” you said with your voice hoarse, “don’t leave me.” Dean looked at you, his eyes sad and smiled almost apologetically. “I won’t,” he said and you let go so he could exit your bedroom. His and Sam’s voices were muffled as they talked outside of your bedroom door, but you could have sworn you heard something about hoodoo and witches. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding, but at this point you didn’t know what to make of anything. You asked Dean to stay not only because you were afraid of being alone after the incident, but because you needed answers. Shortly after his talk with Sam, he entered the room again and you slowly sat up, crossing your legs so he could sit at the foot of your bed.

“Are you okay?” He asked, sinking into the edge of the mattress.

You nodded your head, “Better I guess.” Your eyes averted away from him and you fiddled your with your fingers. “Dean, what’s going on?” You finally asked shakily. There were hundreds of questions you wanted to ask, but you didn’t know where to start. “What are hex… hex bags? How did it get in my house? You’re not really a detective, are you?”

Dean sighed heavily, turning his body to face you. “I’m a hunter,” he said blatantly, his voice low and stern.

You knitted your brows in confusion, “A _hunter?_ Like you hunt bears and deer?”

“No,” Dean replied chuckling under his breath, “I – me and Sammy hunt…monsters; supernatural creatures that you only hear about in stories. It sounds crazy, I know…but believe me. It’s a lot crazier than it sounds.” There was a long pause for you to gather all your thoughts and take in what he was saying before you answered that you believed him and let him continue. “Hex bags are used by witches to cast a spell,” he answered and eyed you cautiously, observing your reactions. You were mostly confused, but you were calm nonetheless. You stayed quiet, cueing him to continue, “There’s someone here, a witch, who’s using hex bags to kill the people in your apartment building, including you. Turns out its some weirdo psycho witch bitch jealous of all the pretty ladies like you in this building.”

“A witch? They really exist? Is this even real life…am I dreaming? I must be dreaming…” You ran your hand through your messy hair almost in utter disbelief, but you had no choice but to trust him.

Dean chuckled again, “You’re not dreaming. I wish all of this was a dream, but it’s not.” There was a hint of anger in his voice that made you remember how sad his eyes were when he looked at you. It almost seemed as if he was angry that he couldn’t stop this in time from happening to you, like it was his fault that you got hurt. The horrors of his real job were probably what he was saving you from that night you spent together, and if you weren’t a victim you probably wouldn’t have believed him if he told you. “It’ll be all over soon,” he said reassuringly. “My little brother’s waiting to get the handle on her right now.”

“Brother? Sam is your brother?” You asked a little surprised that they were related, but more so that Sam was his _little_ brother. Dean replied with a curt ‘yep’ and your eyebrows furrowed, “Shouldn’t you be helping him, Dean? You seem to be quite the slacker,” you said jokingly to lighten the mood.

“Only because you’re distracting me, sweetheart,” he said and you rolled your eyes and smiled. “I wanted to stay back with you for awhile to make sure you’re okay,” he said. “Are you okay?” He asked and you nodded. There was still some pain in your throat and you were still shaken up about the whole thing, but you felt fully functional and pretty much okay. “I’m going to meet up with him later so we can ice this witch. Are you going to be okay by yourself for awhile?”

You and nodded, “Yeah, I think so, but umm…you kind of broke the front door.”

Dean glanced outside to where your front door was slightly ajar with a broken doorknob and lock. He palmed his neck and laughed, “Oh yeah, about that… sorry, I’ll fix it before I go,” he said giving you another apologetic smile.

“Thanks Dean,” you said as he stood up to take his leave. He turned to you and winked with a click of his tongue and without thinking you pulled him towards you and he instinctively leaned down allowing you to crash your lips onto his. Dean was initially taken aback, but only deepened the kiss, ravishing your lips like he had been restraining himself all day. He moved in closer, one hand at one side of you, holding himself up on the bed, and his other placed on the small of your back. Your hands reached up to cup his face, the stubble poking at the flesh of your fingers, but you didn’t mind it one bit. Dean’s kiss grew with increasing need, gently biting your bottom lip for entrance. You parted your lips slightly and he slipped his tongue past, taking you in. Your tongues played and you could have sworn you could still taste the whiskey, the same as your first kiss with Dean. He pulled slightly, allowing you to catch your breath and continued placed short, needy kisses on your half-swollen lips.

“I’ll be back,” he breathed and you nodded in an okay, staring into his enticing green gaze. Another quick kiss on the lips, then one on your forehead, and he was out the door. You bit your bottom lip as you watched him leave and it didn’t come to realization until he was long gone that he forgot to fix your door.


End file.
